The next day, an owl dropped the Daily Prophet on top of Ellen’s bacon and eggs. Without even glancing at the front page, she quickly took the paper and stuffed it into her book bag. Molly and Jonathan gave her odd looks.
“Just not in the mood to read more horror, that’s all,” explained Ellen, gesturing to the place where the paper lay in her bag. Jonathan nodded his head and started talking to Mark, but Molly looked at her knowingly.
“The dreams?” she prompted, lowering her voice and leaning forward. Her eyes showed concern and fright. Ellen sighed. Of course Molly would know that something was wrong. When Ellen had woken up the entire dorm with her screaming last night, Molly obviously hadn’t bought the excuse that she had had any old nightmare.
“Fine. Last night they got worse. I actually dreamed of someone dying,” Ellen answered, also lowering her voice. “If I have to think of death when I’m sleeping, I can at least try to avoid it while I’m awake, right?”
Molly nodded slowly in agreement, and patted her friend on the back. “Sorry, Ellen.”
“You’re not the one who needs to apologize,” muttered Ellen. “He does.” Molly gave her an inquisitive look at her last remark, but said nothing more, letting the subject drop.
*
And the dreams continued. Now, instead of random images flashing by, each image had a five or ten second scene to go with it.
”Help me.” A girl in all red spoke the words calmly. Ellen looked closer at the girl, and was horrified to see that the red was not the colour of her shirt; it was blood.
“You’re-” Ellen chocked out, unable to finish her sentence.
The girl looked back at her with warm, brown eyes, that reminded her so much of Molly’s. “Help me. Please.”
*
“Save us!” A frantic mother, with her two year old clinging on to her arm was the source of the yelling. “He’s coming! He’s coming!”
“Who?” asked Ellen, feeling frantic herself, although she was pretty sure she was just a bystander, un-real to the scene around her. Ellen was right; the mother didn’t hear or answer her, only tried to dissaperate, once again failing, while the child screamed and cried.
And the dream changed.
*
“Hide!” A small child, ducking under a bed in fright.
*
“It’s Him, George! It’s Him!” A sobbing woman, searching desperately for her wand.
*
“AHHHHHH!” No one. Darkness. A green light.
*
“No, please, don’t-”
*
“Camille! CAMILLE!” Ellen woke up with a start, her bangs stuck to her sweaty forehead.
Ellen shook her head, trying to wipe away all the images she had just seen. She breathed in deeply, trying to focus on her quilt’s pattern, but was still unable to get the last picture out of her mind; it was of a small, five year old girl named Camille, lying dead on the floor with the dark mark hovering over her. The girl’s teddy bear had been lying next to her.
*
The leaves and wind became crisper as October went on. On the afternoon of Halloween, Ellen sat under a tree trying to focus on the ancient runes symbols on the page of her book. She was supposed to be translating them, but she had dazed off into a world of thought, recalling the faces of her dream people. She closed her eyes, focusing on the face of an elderly woman. She could hear the leaves rustling from the wind, and students laughing and talking with each other.
She yawned, stretching her arms to the sky, trying to shake off the tiredness that dragged her down. She hasn’t slept well last night, due to the fact that six people had been murdered in her dreams. A ray of sunlight warmed Ellen’s face, and she felt herself drifting off into sleep, into her dream world.
A little girl, around five, didn’t hear Voldemort walking up to the door of her house. She noticed his presence when he blasted the door open. She ran from the hall, her hair whipping about her as she rushed to warn the rest of her family. Ellen had the perspective of a bystander, and saw clearly how Voldemort destroyed the door and glided over the threshold, unbothered by it all. He had come with a mission, and he was confident he would succeed.
And it was then that Ellen recognized the girl. This was Camille, the girl she had seen dead two nights ago. Ellen realised she was seeing the ‘before’, but that only made it so much worse.
Camille’s screams and shouts filled her head as Voldemort followed her into the kitchen; she was trapped. She was shouting in French, yet Ellen understood every word.
“It’s him! Run, Mum, Dad!” the girl yelled, looking around. Ellen reached into her cloak for her wand to defend the girl, but her pockets were empty.
Ellen was helpless. The little girl was helpless, standing in the kitchen with her teddy bear up against her face, screaming and crying at the same time. Her soft brown hair hung about her wet face, a strand stuck below her eye in a tear.
“Daddy! Mummy!” she yelled again; warning or calling them this time, Ellen did not know.
Voldemort lifted his wand to cast the curse that would destroy Camille’s life, hopes, and dreams. The little girl stopped crying for a second, watching the man in front of her. Camille knew what was coming. Ellen knew it, too.
“I am NOT going to watch you murder her!” screamed Ellen, closing her eyes in an attempt to wake up from the dream. “They’re dreams!”
CRACK!
Ellen awoke with a start, banging her head on the hard ground. She had only a moment of the sun and grounds around her, relief flooding through her, before a rushing filled her ears, and she felt herself being sucked down and away from all around her. She closed her eyes for a second, and opened them to find herself back in the kitchen with Voldemort and Camille, as if no time had passed.
Camille’s green eyes were wide with fright as Voldemort lifted his wand, slowly and deliberately. He seemed to be savouring this particular murder, although killing a wandless child wasn’t anything to be proud off.
“No!” yelled Ellen, trying to push Camille out of the way. But Ellen was transparent. Her arm went right through Camille without her noticing.
And then Ellen realised Camille was saying something to Voldemort. She was whispering one sentence as she realised she was going to die.
“I am not afraid to die, Demon.” Her voice was sweet and high, perfectly calm and stable. And then the green light hit her, swallowed her whole, and tore her away from the world. She fell to the ground, small and petite in contrast to the neon light.
Ellen hit the ground again, although she didn’t remember standing up. A piercing noise filled her ears, and she got up quickly, looking around to see who was screaming. It was her. She stopped, and dropped back to the ground, trying to catch her breath. She could see the green grounds, and students around her.
Ellen stayed in that position for several minutes, trying to figure out what just happened.
“I fell asleep…and I tried to wake up,” she muttered to herself. “But- it didn’t work.” She remembered the suction she felt, the way the darkness had pulled her down again. “And then I was back in the dream, and Camille di-” She stopped short, brushing the tears that she found on her face away, not wanting to think about the small girl who had just died in her dream.
The wind blew some leaves around, ruffling Ellen’s books. But Ellen paid no attention, only frowned.
“There’s something wrong with me,” she whispered to herself, brushing away more tears that flooded her face. “Normal people don’t dream about others dying, not random people they don’t even know…”
A thrown paper interrupted Ellen’s misery. She looked up to see a Slytherin a few yards away, laughing. “Take a gander at that,” he said happily. He studied her face, noticing the tears. This only seemed to make him merrier. “He’s on the move,” he laughed. Ellen only stared at him. The boy, who didn’t seem to have expected a response, walked away, still chuckling.
As soon as he was gone, Ellen glanced down at the paper that was thrown at her, glad for a distraction. It was the Daily Prophet. Ellen had a sinking feeling, before she picked it up, that what ever it held was not good. She flipped through the pages non-the-less, trying to take her mind off her problems, looking for whatever it was that the Slytherin thought would annoy her.
“BLOODY H-!” Ellen screamed, jumping up and away from the paper. She had turned to page ten, and on that page was a picture of the French girl from her dream, along with her family, all dead.
Demons and Dream People by Trivia Camlee
Chapter Notes: Here is the third chapter! Please let me know what you think- all comments and critiques are welcomed!
Thank you for reading :)